What epic am I about to pour?
I bleed my soul upon this page…
I think of all the Love I’ve shared…
Auburn, brown, and blackened hair…
Not a one can come close…
As that cute little two year old…
Passion strong perhaps was true…
But the passion was weak to tell the truth…
Which ones would I have died for…
Which ones would I fight for…
Even all the ones I cried for…
I try to think of one true love…
One that gives, no tariff due…
Beyond stickered pets…
And misplaced glue…
No crawling through fire to trial me today…
No proof needing to be given…
Perhaps a plate of spaghetti…
Or a spilt drink he gives me…
But I’m a man big and strong…
And besides he didn’t know…
He hides his face in sorrow…
I forgive and ruffle his hair…
He smiles and is gone…
What pain is there?
What an epic I am about to pour….
Hold on a second…
Let me close that drawer…
One more wet wipe…
Let me clean it some more…
Now where’s my imp…
Ah, he’s out the door…
I’d love to talk or type…
But I have to go…
The epic shall wait….
Because he has things to do…
Off I am, to chase him down…
To find the danger…
Or the treasure he’s found…
